Features
The University College, Colombo,and going off to a British University
Excerpted from the Memoirs of a Cabinet Secretary by BP Peiris
A few months after leaving Royal, I entered our University College under the Principalship of Robert Marrs who lectured to us on Philosophy. I was then a first year Arts student. Professor Pakeman spoke on the British Constitution and Warden Stone of St Thomas’ on Latin and Greek, and Roman and Greek History.
But alas! My stay at University College was to he very short indeed – just two months. I lived at the Union Hostel at ‘Alcove’ in Turret Road. The warden was Mr C. Suntharalingam. I got precious little to eat, and it was no fault or negligence on the part of the warden. It was just bad manners on the part of the hostellers. I was always a bit late, about five minutes, for meals. We sat in messes of four. When we had egg curry for lunch, there were four eggs in a dish in each mess, similarly with prawn curry, there were sufficient prawns for four.
But when I came and sat down in my usual place, the egg, which was my portion, had gone; who took it, I was never able to find out; the prawns had all gone and I had only the gravy. At tea time, the butter and milk had all been consumed and I had to be satisfied with bread, jam and a cup of plain tea. At dinner it was the same, and this occurred day after day. The three others had no manners and no consideration for the fourth fellow who was a few minutes late.
I am not here condemning all the hostelers; there were well-mannered, well-behaved students. Unfortunately, I got into a bunch of greedy, voracious and selfish students, which made me extremely unhappy. We used sometimes to get parcels of fruits etc. from our parents -oranges, mangoes, mangosteens – which were much appreciated. When I received such a parcel, I always shared it with my friends. There was one student who locked up all the fruits he received in one of his drawers and never failed to take the key with him even when he went to the toilet!
As I said, I was very unhappy. It was not my idea, even as a young fellow, of what a University should or ought to be, and I told father so and suggested that he send me to England to study law. My father did not oppose the idea, but consulted Mr (later Sir) Susantha de Fonseka who readily acquiesced, and said it was a wise move. I had now to find a place in a college in Oxford, Cambridge, London or one of the other Universities.
Father accordingly went with me to Sir James Peiris, in his time President of the Cambridge Union and, at the time I went, Vice-President of the Legislative Council. Father made the mistake of starting the conversation saying that he had come to ask for a favour. Sir James was not exactly angry but looked very surprised that my father, who knew him so well, should make such an irregular request. Sir James “did not do favours” or abuse his position.
There was a look of disapproval on his face and my father hurried to tell him what the favour was – a letter from him to his College in Cambridge to secure me a place there. “Oh Edmund,” said Sir James, “if that is all, I shall gladly write.” Unfortunately for me, his College had no vacancies, and I joined the University of London. At one time I had received the princely allowance of five cents a day. Now I was to be sent, at 19, to England at seven pounds a week. It turned my head and made me nervous. I had never handled so much money before.
And now arose a problem. Father did not like my living in ‘digs’ in London. He wanted me to stay with an English family and enjoy good English home life. As the Mudaliyar of the district, he knew the Assistant Government Agent Mr E. T. Dyson, a good and kindly Christian gentleman. Dyson liked a simple life, and was a stranger to tobacco and drink. When father asked him whether he could find me a good home in England, he had said “Yes”. The lady (my good luck) happened to be holidaying at Peradeniya at the moment, and father, mother and I were invited to lunch. We arrived at the appointed time, introduced ourselves and, over lunch, terms were agreed upon. When I reached England, I was to live in her house in Sutton in Surrey, about 15 miles out of London.
Came sailing day. All Panadura seemed to be at the jetty to say “Good Luck”. Rubber was then, (in 1928), nearly three rupees a pound and each one at the jetty gave me a gold sovereign. I got over seventy in all at a time when England had gone off gold and an Englishman had not seen a sovereign since the Great War of 1914.
Friends and relatives departed after kisses, tears and farewells, but two good friends came on board later, my teacher Victor C. Perera and my classmate, Eustace Pieris. I had the Captain’s permission to keep them as my guests to dinner on board. No extra charge was made and I therefore gave the dinner steward a sovereign as tip. He looked at me amazed, did not seem to know what he had received, put it in his palm and pressed it against the table top. He had never seen a sovereign.
On another occasion in London I purchased some gramophone records and paid a sovereign. I returned home with the records and change to find that change had been given me for ten shillings only. I went back to the shop the next day and mentioned the matter to the shopkeeper. He apologized, gave me an extra ten shillings and said he could not make out a sovereign from a half-sovereign.
The voyage itself was uneventful, except for the fact that Sir Wilfred and Lady de Soysa with all their children including the eldest, Harold (later Lord Bishop of Colombo) were on board and looked after me. I have not met two more gracious and kindly persons than Sir Wilfred and his good lady. One hour with the children and you could not but succumb to their charm. We disembarked at Marseilles, the de Soysas going on holiday to Nice in the South of France and I taking the night train to London via Calais and Dover.
On the platform at Marseilles, a Ceylonese who said he had been resident there for several years and ran a restaurant, approached us and introduced himself. When he found that Sir Wilfred and party were going to Nice and that I would be alone waiting a few hours for the boat-train to Calais, he asked me to come along with him to see the city. Sir Wilfred, who knew I had the sovereigns on me, got behind the man and signaled to me not to go. I ‘did’ the city with an officer of the American Express who brought me back to the station in good time and put me in my wagon-lit when the train arrived.
Sutton in Surrey
The night in the sleeping-car from Marseilles to Calais and the journey from Dover to London were comfortable. So was the Channel crossing. I kept gazing out of the window at the green fields, the cattle pasturing, the huge advertising boards and the neat little houses flying past as the train sped on. When the countryside gave way to back-to-back houses and overcrowding, and the number of lines began to increase at an alarming rate and the train reduced speed, I knew we were approaching the terminal station of Victoria, but it was a long time before the train finally pulled up at the station.
I was met by my uncle, D.S. Jayawickrama and Mr Amos of Richardson & Co. Mr Richardson was to be my Guardian and banker for the duration of my stay.
I spent my first night in a guest house and next day went shopping. The vastness of London frightened me. The buses, the noise, the several lines of traffic, the tall, big-built policemen in the smart helmets, the neon signs, Piccadilly Circus – this was all so different from our small Colombo and its Fort Station, our ramshackle buses and our puny policemen. I arrived in London in February 1928 when it was bitterly cold, but the cold did not affect me. After a few days in London, I moved to Sutton Lodge, the place which Mr Dyson had found for me.
I found myself in a large country house with about 10 bedrooms, standing on seven acres of land, with its own tennis court, croquet lawn and kitchen garden. The house was situated on the narrow London – Brighton Road and the entrances to the house were so narrow that a large car could not be turned in but had to be parked on the road.
The lady in charge, Miss Overton, aged about 60, was educated at Oxford at a time when Oxford did not confer degrees on women; but I believe that on the Oxford Examination, Dublin University conferred a degree. She was a heavy smoker, a charming lady. Years later, she revisited Ceylon and spent some days at Panadura as a guest of my parents.
On the day of my arrival, a Danish girl, aged 19 arrived, and, from then onwards, it was a case of one or two new arrivals each day, all females of about the same age but from different countries, until the house was full. Except for the butler, I was the only male in the house. These girls, all from well-to-do families and with about the same allowance as I received, came about February each year and returned to their homes by Christmas.
English was compulsory in all their schools. They spoke English, but not as the Englishmen spoke it. In most of their languages, as in Sinhala, Latin and German, the verb comes at the end of the sentence. For example, the German girl will ask me “Will you with me for a walk come?” All the girls came to learn idiom and, when Miss Overton was not free, I used to take the lesson which meant reading a bit of Shaw or Galsworthy and explaining it to them.
In this way, during the three years I stayed at Sutton Lodge, I was privileged to enjoy the friendship of these girls of many nationalities, some of whom still write to me at Christmas. Amongst them, as far as I can now remember, were Margaret and Trudy Brunner, sisters (Switzerland), Greth Ahner (Sweden), Sombor Marta (Hungary), Szmidel Zsuzsi and Verona Mermelstein (Czechoslovakia), Zofia Gabryszewska (Poland), List Pospichil (Austria), a beautiful girl from Vienna for whose picture a toothpaste company offered her about £ 250 for permission to use it for purposes of advertisement, Ilse Wolff (Germany), Nina Rissoni (Italy) and Idelette Allier (France), whose father was a great friend of Mahatma Gandhi, and Ramain Rolland.
It was a delightful experience. We were all part of the establishment. Miss Overton gave us a completely free hand about the house. If we felt hungry, we raided the larder and sliced a portion of ham or cheese. The Swiss girls, who consumed enormous quantities of potatoes, were always hungry. After dinner, I was made to go out into the garden and shake the apple and pear trees and bring the girls some fruit to eat. Sometimes I would take about four of the girls about a mile down the road for bacon and eggs – the equivalent of our egg hoppers. But they never let me pay the entire bill. I had to keep a careful account of the expenditure and this was equally divided on our return home and I was reimbursed.
It was so at table also. As the only male I was expected to have my cigarettes and pass my case round the table, and with thirteen girls, a packet of twenty did not last very long. But I was never out of pocket because every one of the girls kept me supplied with ample stocks to supply them at table!
There was one thing that irritated me: Miss Overton insisted that I should dress for dinner. The girls all changed into long black dresses and I could not protest as the lone male. The butler was superb.As I said before, the Swiss girls were great potato eaters. It was the custom of the house to put new arrivals on either side of Miss Overton who presided at the head of the table with me at the other end. It was also the practice, with 13 girls, Miss Overton and myself, fifteen in all, to make for a fish course, thirty pieces of fish and thirty potatoes with other vegetables. On the first day of the Swiss girls’ arrival, they were served with fish, and then with the potatoes, and one of the girls asked “Is this all for me?” “Good Lord, no,” said Miss Overton, “Take only two.” It was after that that we started our tramp for bacon and eggs.
In my third year at Sutton Lodge, I had male company. There was a French boy Pierre Dujardin, a Spaniard and two Dutch boys. There was also a Siamese Prince who said that his father, a Sultan, had many wives and 52 children.

The Swedish girl, Greta, asked me within a week of my arrival at Sutton to come with her and take her round London. It was a case of the blind leading the blind. Armed with road maps and bus routes we set out and, after seeing the sights like the Tower of London, the Mansion House, the Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace and Queen Victoria’s statue from the top of an open bus, we arrived again at Piccadilly Circus for lunch.
I was a stranger in the place and walked into the biggest and cheapest eating place there – Lyons Corner House, which had three floors, each seating about a thousand persons with an orchestra on each floor, and open day and night. It was difficult to find a table, but after much walking we found one at which a gentleman was finishing his peach melba. With his permission, we sat down opposite him, I facing him and Greta next to me.
When he had finished his meal and paid the bill, he rose and, in rising, tilted the small table with the result that plates, glasses and cutlery went crashing on the floor. The balance of the peach melba went on Greta’s expensive blue frock. Being in unfamiliar surroundings, I became very nervous as a thousand faces turned round to stare at Greta and myself. I called the waitress and asked that Greta be taken to the ladies’ room to tidy herself.
In the meantime the officer in charge of the floor dressed in a morning suit, walked up to the table and inquired of the gentleman “I presume it was an accident, Sir”. “Not at all, not at all,” he repeated. “Then will you please come with me,” said the official, and took him to the Manager. I was there seated alone, eyes still staring at me, with the fellow in the Manager’s room and Greta in the ladies’ room. It was a most unpleasant experience within seven days of my arrival in England.
Greta returned, her dress clean but spoilt by ice-cream stains. The floor manager returned with the brute and addressing me said, “Sir, this gentleman says he did this deliberately. In the circumstances, it is for the lady to take legal action if she considers it to be necessary.” I explained the position to Greta. I was only a witness, and as no damage had been done to my clothes, Greta said in her Swedish English ” I have been in your country only a few days. I don’t want to go before the ‘Judge’. I can buy another frock but this man manners I can’t teach. Ask him go.” And there it ended. It was the story of a man who was jealous that a “nigger” could take out a girl of family and status whom he was not able to take out and entertain.
Before these girls returned to their homes each Christmas, they all left their addresses with me and invited me to come and spend my long vacation with their parents. They were all people of means; but I had not the money to travel all the way across Europe from Norway down to Italy. I therefore selected three places – France, Germany and Switzerland.
Apart from the girls I have spoken of, there was for a short time at Sutton an elderly Indian lady, the wife of a Judge of the High Court of Madras. On the day of her arrival, as I was about to go on one of my evening walks to the pub, she asked me to be kind enough to bring her a pint of brandy. When the dinner gong sounded, she was absent and I was asked to go and see what the trouble was. There was no reply to my knock or her door. I opened it and saw the brandy pint empty on the carpet by the bedside and her head hanging half out of the bed. I reported that the lady wanted to be excused as she was not feeling quite well. The next day she repeated her request to me and asked me to dispose of the empty. I had to refuse.
In France, I stayed in a delightfully lovely place called Hardelot Plage. ‘Plage’ in French denotes the sea beach. It was about 12 miles from Boulogne and thousands of acres of land there had been bought by my friend Pierre’s father. Apart from his father’s house there were only about 10 other houses, a guest house, a golf course with a hotel called ‘The Golfer’s Hotel’ and of course, the promenade about a mile and a half long.
With my Kandyan walking stick and a turban of seven yards of georgette with a tail about eighteen inches long, I used to take the prom every evening in the company of Pierre’s sister and a few other girls. An Indian friend of mine had taught me how to tie a turban and I never wore a hat after that. When I finally left England, each of my seven turbans in different colours was cut in half, ironed and given to the girls to make frocks!
Pierre’s family were simple, homely and dignified. His sister insisted that I teach her how to tie the turban, which I did. Her father, an extremely wealthy man insisted that I spend my last two days in France – I was there for about three weeks – at his town house in Lille, to which place I was driven in a luxurious car.
At table, the French people had a custom entirely different from the English. I found a spotless table cloth, two glass blocks on either side of the plate and one fork and knife. The English array of silver was not there. The food was excellent and dinner consisted of several courses. After each course, the plate would be replaced, each person placing his fork and knife on the glass blocks in order that the table cloth might not be soiled.
On my second day in Lille and my last day in France, Pierre’s father, at dinner, paid me, as a student, the biggest compliment that has ever been paid to me. He asked the butler to go down to the cellar and bring the two oldest bottles of Champagne. These, covered with dust and cobwebs, were left standing for some time on the table before they were opened. A toast was drunk to my health. Next morning, with much regret, I bade farewell to the family and was driven to the station to entrain for Heidelberg in Germany.
Features
Pay attention or pay the price: Sri Lanka’s maritime imperative in a fractured ocean
Sri Lanka stands at a geopolitical crossroads where geography is both its greatest asset and its most vulnerable liability. Sitting astride the Indian Ocean’s critical east-west highway, the waters, south of Dondra Head, channel nearly 30% of the world’s maritime trade. This route is the arterial vein connecting Asia, Europe, and the Middle East. Yet, as tensions flare in the Middle East and great power competition intensifies, Sri Lanka finds itself guarding a highway it does not own, with an economy too fragile to absorb the shocks of collateral damage.
Recent analyses, including insights from the Financial Times on the fragility of global ocean governance, offer a stark warning: international treaties alone cannot guarantee security. The newly enacted UN Biodiversity Beyond National Jurisdiction (BBNJ) treaty may be a diplomatic triumph, but as major powers, like the US, sidestep commitments, while China seeks strategic influence, the high seas are becoming increasingly lawless. For Sri Lanka, relying on international law to protect its 600,000 km² Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), is a strategy destined to fail. The moment demands a shift from passive reliance to active resilience.
The Naval Imperative: Sovereignty requires strength
The first pillar of survival is a robust Navy. The FT report highlights that without enforcement mechanisms, marine protected areas become “paper parks.” Similarly, an EEZ without patrol capacity is merely a line on a map. With Sri Lanka’s Navy having just rescued 32 Iranian sailors from the sunken frigate IRIS Dena, following a US submarine strike in nearby international waters, and additional Iranian vessels now seeking assistance, or operating in the region, amid major powers vying for influence, the risk of direct incidents at sea remains very real.
Sri Lanka must accelerate investment in blue-water naval capacity and EEZ surveillance. Strengthening patrols, south of Dondra Head, is not just about conservation, it is about sovereignty. The ability to manage rescue operations, grant diplomatic clearances, and monitor traffic, without external coercion, is the definition of independence. “Might is right” remains the operating principle for some superpowers. Sri Lanka cannot afford to be a bystander in its own waters. A strong Navy acts as a deterrent, ensuring that the 30% of global shipping passing nearby does not become a theatre for proxy conflicts.
Statecraft: Balancing economics and sovereignty
The second pillar is nuanced statecraft. Sri Lanka imports nearly 100% of its fuel, making it hypersensitive to disruptions in the Strait of Hormuz. Prolonged conflict in the Middle East will spike oil prices, reigniting inflation and threatening the hard-won economic stability following recent crises. However, economic desperation must not drive diplomatic misalignment.
The smartest priority is strict neutrality. Sri Lanka cannot afford to alienate any major partner – the US, India, China, Iran, or the Gulf states. Coordinating quietly with India for maritime domain awareness is prudent given proximity, but joining any military bloc is perilous. Recent discussions highlight how the US aggressively prioritises resource extraction in international waters, often at the expense of broader environmental protections. Sri Lanka must navigate these competing agendas without becoming a pawn. Publicly urging de-escalation, through forums like the Indian Ocean Rim Association (IORA), allows Colombo to advocate for safe passage without picking sides.
Securing the economy and energy future
The third pillar is economic shielding. The immediate threat is fuel security. The government must build emergency fuel stocks and negotiate alternative suppliers to buffer against Hormuz disruptions. The Central Bank must be prepared to manage rupee pressure as import bills swell. Furthermore, monitoring secondary effects is crucial; higher shipping costs will hit exports like tea and garments, while tourism warnings could dampen arrival numbers.
Long-term resilience demands energy diversification, prioritising solar power. Sri Lanka’s abundant sunshine offers huge potential to cut reliance on Middle Eastern oil and shield the economy from geopolitical shocks. Accelerate rooftop/utility-scale solar with incentives: duty exemptions on equipment, enhanced net-metering, subsidies/loans for households and businesses, and fast-tracked approvals plus battery storage support. This attracts investment, creates jobs, and boosts energy security. Secure financier confidence for sustainable blue economy initiatives without compromising sovereignty.
The bottom line
The message for Sri Lanka is clear: This is a “pay attention or pay the price” moment. The country is geographically positioned on the critical Indian Ocean highway but remains economically fragile. The smartest priorities are to protect people first, secure the seas second, and shield the economy third, all while staying strictly neutral.
Any misstep, whether getting drawn into naval incidents or visibly picking sides in a great power struggle, would be far costlier than the fuel price hike itself. The global oceans treaty may offer a framework for cooperation, but as experts warn, we need “systems of co-operation that go beyond the mere words on the page.” For Sri Lanka, those systems must be built on national capacity, diplomatic agility, and an unwavering commitment to neutrality. The ocean is rising with tension; Sri Lanka must ensure it does not drown in the wake.
Reference:
“The geopolitics of the global oceans treaty”https://www.ft.com/content/563bef02-f4a7-42c3-9cfa-7c3fe51be1eb
By Professor Chanaka Jayawardhena
Professor of Marketing
University of Surrey
Chanaka.j@gmail.com
Features
Winds of Change:Geopolitics at the crossroads of South and Southeast Asia
Asanga Abeyagoonasekera’s latest book is a comprehensive account of international relations in the regions it covers, with particular reference to current rivalries between India and China and the United States. It deals with shifting alliances, or rather alliances that grow stronger or weaker through particular developments: there are no actual breaks in a context in which the three contestants for power in the region are wooing or threatening smaller countries, moving seamlessly from one mode to the other though generally in diplomatic terms.
The area is now widely referred to as the Indo-Pacific. Though that term was coined over a hundred years ago by a German keen to challenge the Anglo-American hegemony that triumphed after the First World War, it gained currency more recently, following a speech by the hawkish Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, who was instrumental in developing the Quad Alliance between Japan, India, the United States and Australia.
This marked a radical change in Indian Foreign Policy, for India had prided itself previously on being Non-Aligned, while the West saw it as close to the Soviet Union and then to Russa. But as Abeyagoonasekera constantly reiterates, India’s approach is governed now by nervousness about China, which in the last couple of decades has made deep inroads into the Indian Ocean. Now many states around this Ocean, relatively far from China, are being closely connected, economically but also otherwise, with China.
Instrumental in this development is the Belt and Road Initiative, which China has used to develop infrastructure in the region, designed to facilitate its own trade, but also the trade of the countries that it has assisted. Abeyagoonasekera is clear throughout the book that the initiative has been of great assistance to the recipient countries, and contests vigorously the Western claim that it was designed as a debt trap to control those countries.
I fully endorse this view. To supplement his perspective with a couple of anecdotes, I recall a British friend in Cambodia telling me how the country had benefited from Chinese support, which developed infrastructure – whereas the West in those days concentrated on what it called capacity building, which meant supporting those who shared its views through endless seminars in expensive hotels, a practice with which we are familiar in this country too.
Soon afterwards I met a very articulate taxi driver in Ethiopia, who had come home from England, where he had worked for many years, who described the expansion of its road network. This had been neglected for years, until the Chinese turned up. I remembered then a Dutchman at a conference talking about the sinister nature of a plane full of Chinese businessmen, to which an African responded in irritation that the West had applauded the plunder of the continent by their own businessmen, and that the Africans now knew better and could ensure some benefit to themselves as the owners of the commodities the West had long thought their own birthright.
Abeyagoonasekera contrasts with the Chinese approach the frugality of the Indians, a frugality born of relative poverty, and appends the general suspicions with which Indian interventions are treated, given previous efforts at domination. And while he is himself markedly diplomatic in his accounts of the different approaches of the three players in this game, time and time again he notes the effortless ease with which the Chinese have begun to dominate the field.
His research has been thorough, and the statistics he cites about trade make clear that the Chinese are streets ahead of the other two, both in terms of balances as well as in absolute terms. And he notes too that, whereas the Western discourse is of Chinese restrictions on freedom, in Sri Lanka at any rate it is the others who are wary of transparency.
Though he notes that there is no clarity about the agreements the current government has entered into with the Indians, and that contrary to what might have been expected from former Marxists it has not resumed the tilt towards China of earlier left wing regimes, he shows that there has been no break with China. He seems to believe that the groundwork China laid still gives hope of more economic development than what the other two countries have to offer.
We cannot after all forget that the Rajapaksa government first asked India to develop the Hambantota port, and I still recall the Indian High Commissioner at the time, Ashok Kantha, wondering whether India had erred in not taking up the offer. In a marked example of how individuals affect bilateral relations, I have no doubt his predecessor, the effusive Alok Prasad, would have taken up the offer.
It was Rajapaksa hubris that made the cost of the port escalate, for when the rock inside the breakwaters was discovered, before the harbour was filled, and Mahinda Rajapaksa was told it would not cost much to get rid of it, he preferred to have the opening on his birthday as scheduled, which meant the waters then had to be drained away for the rock to be dynamited. And unfortunately, planning being left to the younger brother, we had grandiose buildings in the town, instead of the infrastructure that would have ensured greater economic activity.
This error was repeated in spades with regard to Mattala. Though not in the right place, which was not the case with the Hambantota development, nothing was done to take advantage of the location such as it was and institute swift connections with the hill country, the East Coast, and the wildlife so abundant in the area.
The last section of the book, after its thorough examination of the activities of the three major players in the region as a whole, deals with Sri Lanka’s Domestic Political Challenges, and records, politely but incisively, the endless blunders that have brought us lower and lower. But while highlighting the callousness of politicians, he also notes how efforts to appease the West weakened what he describes as core protections.
Though there has been much speculation about what exactly brought down Gotabaya Rajapaksa – not his government, for that in essence continued, with a different leader – perhaps the most far-reaching revelation in Abeyagoonasekera’s book is of Gotabaya’s conviction that it was the CIA that destroyed him. As so often when the hidden hand of the West is identified, the local contributions are ignored, as Gotabaya’s absurd energy policy, and the ridiculous tax concessions with which his rule began. But that does not mean there were no other players in the game.
Ironically, Gotabaya’s accusations against the United States occur after a startling passage in which Abeyagoonasekera declares of that country that ‘The fatigue gripping the nation is deeper than weariness; it is a spiritual exhaustion, a slow erosion of belief. Rising prices, policy paralysis, and a fractured foreign policy have left America adrift. Inflation haunts them like a spectre, while the immigrant crisis stirs frustrations in communities already stretched to their limits’.
This he claims explains the re-emergence of Donald Trump. Now, in the midst of the horrors Trump has perpetrated, this passage suggests that he is desperate to assert himself in denial of the fatigue that has overcome a nation initially built on idealism, now in the throes of ruthless cynicism. What will follow I do not know. But the manner in which India’s slavishness to the bullying of Netanyahu and Trump has destroyed the moral stature it once had suggests that Abeyagoonasekera’s nuanced but definite adulation of Chinese policy will be a hallmark of the new world order.
By Rajiva Wijesinha
Features
Human–Elephant conflict in Sri Lanka
Human–elephant conflict (HEC) in Sri Lanka results in significant loss of human life, elephant deaths, and extensive damage to crops and property. Despite numerous interventions over the decades, the situation continues to deteriorate. The reasons for the breakdown of what was once a relatively tolerant coexistence—albeit one dominated by humans—into an increasingly confrontational relationship must be clearly understood by both the public and policymakers. Immediate measures are required to minimise losses, alongside long-term solutions grounded in sound ecological and governance principles. It must also be recognised that this is a complex problem; effective mitigation and sustainable solutions require a multidisciplinary approach integrated into the country’s overall development planning. This article examines several cost-effective methods that have been successfully implemented in other countries and may apply to the Sri Lankan context.
Key Challenge: Lack of Reliable Data
The primary reason for the escalation of human–elephant conflict (HEC) is the shrinking of wildlife habitats in the country due to poorly planned development and uncontrolled, unwise land encroachment. A major barrier to effective intervention is the lack of accurate and comprehensive data in two key areas: (a) land and land utilisation, and (b) the elephant population and their range.
It became evident after the Ditwah cyclone disaster that the lack of readily accessible, reliable data on land and its use, is a major obstacle to a wide range of project planning and implementation efforts. Regardless of how HEC is mitigated, the government must take immediate action to establish a digital land-use database, as this is a key component of long-term planning for any development initiative. Using modern aerial mapping technologies, it should be possible to catalogue the geography and utilisation of every square metre of the island’s landmass.
Similarly, accurate data on the number of elephants, their age and gender distribution, and the extent of their habitat range, are essential for data-driven decision-making. Here, too, modern technology offers practical solutions. Land-based digital cameras have been successfully used to count elephants, identify individual animals, and monitor their range. Research has shown that the pigmentation patterns of Asian elephants—particularly those on their ears—can serve as a “fingerprint” for identifying individuals. The same technique can also be used to study elephant movement patterns and habitat range. Computer programmes already exist for such cataloguing purposes; however, developing a similar programme, locally, could be both economical and educational, for example, as part of a university IT programme. Since data-driven decision-making is key to the success of any long-term strategy, data collection must begin immediately while short-term mitigation measures are implemented.
Root cause
There must be a general understanding of how this problem has worsened. Sri Lanka is considered an anomaly in island biogeography for supporting a high density of megafauna—including Asian elephants, leopards, and sloth bears—on a relatively small landmass of about 65,000 square kilometres. This is further complicated by the country’s high human population density, estimated at about 356–372 people per square kilometre, ranking among the highest in the world. The human population has increased more than fivefold between 1900 and 2024, from about 4.5 million to nearly 22 million.
The corresponding expansion of land use for human settlement, agriculture, and infrastructure development has placed enormous pressure on wildlife habitats. Habitat loss, together with imbalances in predator populations, has resulted not only in escalating human–elephant conflict (HEC) but also in increasing crop damage caused by peacocks, monkeys, giant squirrels, and feral pigs. The Sri Lankan elephant has no natural predators; its only significant threat arises from human activities. Restoring balance within this complex ecological system is no easy task, yet it must remain the long-term objective if the country is to safeguard its unique biodiversity.
Short-term Measures
Since the current situation has developed over an extended period, practical and humane solutions will also take time to implement. In the short term, several interventions can reduce direct interactions between humans and elephants while ensuring the safety of both:
* Strict prohibition of roadside feeding and improved waste management.
* Public education on safe deterrence methods and the promotion of ethical and sustainable practices in forests, national parks, and sanctuaries.
* The use of proven, non-lethal deterrent methods implemented in a coordinated and systematic manner.
* Anti-depredation squads (ADS): well-trained response teams tasked with implementing and monitoring these measures.
* The use of AI-based technologies to prevent train–elephant collisions.
Several countries have successfully used chilli as a deterrent to keep elephants away from farms and settlements. While cultivating chilli as a crop may contribute to this effort, it alone is not an effective deterrent; the pungent compounds in chilli, which act as an irritant to elephants, must be delivered effectively. One widely used and economical method is chilli-grease fencing, an alternative to electric fencing. In this method, rags soaked in a mixture of ground chilli and used motor oil are hung from ropes in strategic locations to create a deterrent barrier.
More advanced deterrence techniques have also been tested. For example, compressed-air launchers that fire chilli-filled projectiles have demonstrated effectiveness in safely redirecting elephants from a distance without causing harm. In some countries, locally made projectiles containing chilli powder, sand, and firecrackers enclosed in flexible sheaths, such as rubber balloons, are ignited and launched ahead of approaching animals. When combined with strobe lights, air horns, or other noise-making devices, these methods have been found to be even more effective. Over time, elephants may learn to associate irritation with light and sound, allowing these signals alone to act as deterrents. The main limitation of this approach is the need for well-trained personnel available throughout the day. Therefore, the involvement of existing national services—such as the armed forces—in developing and implementing such systems should be considered.
Technology can also play an important role in reducing train–elephant collisions. Night-vision cameras mounted on trains, combined with artificial intelligence, could be used not only to detect elephants but also to identify patterns in elephant movements near railway tracks. Once such high-risk locations are mapped, additional cameras could be installed along the tracks to transmit warning signals to approaching trains when elephants are detected nearby. As a further step, this system could be integrated with the Driver’s Safety Device (DSD)—the “dead man’s” handle or pedal—so that trains can be automatically stopped when elephants are detected on or near the tracks, thereby reducing reliance solely on driver response.
Sustainable Long-Term Solutions
A lasting resolution depends on strategic land-use planning and coexistence-based management. This must form part of a broader national discussion on the sustainable use of the country’s limited land resources.
* Protection and restoration of elephant migration corridors.
* Data-driven placement and maintenance of fencing, rather than attempting to confine elephants within fixed areas.
* Strengthened management of wildlife reserves, including the prevention of human encroachment and uncontrolled cattle grazing.
* Habitat improvement within forests to reduce the attraction of elephants to agricultural lands.
* Introduction of drought-resistant grass varieties such as Cenchrus purpureus (commonly known as elephant grass or Napier grass) and Pennisetum purpureum in wildlife refuges and national parks to alleviate food shortages during the dry season.
* Population control measures, including vaccine-based methods, supported by reliable population data.
Public education on the importance of maintaining ecological balance—especially amid environmental change and expanding economic development—must also be a key priority. Basic principles of environmental management should be incorporated into higher education across all disciplines. At the same time, difficult but necessary questions must be asked about the long-term sustainability and economic return of certain land-use patterns, particularly those shaped during the colonial period for plantation crops. Inefficient agricultural practices, such as chena cultivation, should be phased out, and the clearing of wilderness—especially in ecologically sensitive highland areas for tourism development—must be strictly regulated.
Elephants typically travel between 15 and 50 kilometres a day. Therefore, restoring uninterrupted elephant corridors, linking existing wildlife reserves, must be a central component of long-term planning. In some cases, this may require carefully considering the relocation of human settlements that have developed within former elephant corridors.
Unfortunately, rural communities often bear a disproportionate share of the burden created by these conservation measures. It is, therefore, essential that policies ensure they receive a fair share of the economic benefits generated by wildlife-based industries, particularly tourism. Such policies should aim to help these communities transition from subsistence livelihoods toward improved standards of living. In this context, a critical evaluation of existing agricultural systems must form part of a broader national land-management strategy. Put plainly, the long-term viability of plantation industries, such as tea and rubber, should be assessed in terms of their return on investment—particularly the investment of scarce land resources.
Finally, all ecosystems have a carrying capacity, meaning there is a limit to the number of people and animals that a given area of land can sustain. This issue extends beyond Sri Lanka; many scientists argue that, given current levels of malnutrition and resource depletion, the planet may already have exceeded its sustainable carrying capacity. Others suggest that technological advances and lifestyle changes may increase that capacity. In either case, significant changes in human consumption patterns and lifestyles are likely to become inevitable.
For elephants, however, the absence of natural predators means that humane human intervention may be required to manage population growth sustainably. If elephant populations were allowed to increase unchecked, food scarcity could lead to malnutrition and starvation among the animals themselves. At the same time, a nation, already struggling with child malnutrition, must carefully balance its limited resources between human welfare and wildlife conservation.
One promising approach is immunological sterilisation using the Porcine Zona Pellucida (PZP) vaccine, a reversible and humane form of immunocontraception used in wildlife population management. By stimulating antibodies that prevent sperm from fertilising eggs, this dart-delivered vaccine controls reproduction without significantly altering the animals’ natural behaviour. Once accurate data are obtained on the age and gender distribution of the Sri Lankan elephant population, the systematic application of such methods could become feasible.
Moreover, the development of local capacity to produce such vaccines should be encouraged. Similar technologies could also be applied to manage populations of other animals—such as monkeys and stray dogs—whose numbers can become problematic if left unchecked. Local vaccine production would not only address domestic needs but could potentially create opportunities for export and scientific collaboration.
Conclusion
Human–elephant conflict (HEC) in Sri Lanka is intensifying due to habitat fragmentation, unplanned development, and weak governance. Elephants require large, connected landscapes to survive, and when traditional migration corridors are blocked, conflict becomes inevitable.
Current ineffective practices—such as the mass translocation of elephants, fragmented fencing that obstructs migration routes, and policies that overlook the livelihoods of rural communities—must be reconsidered and replaced with more effective strategies. Mechanisms must also be established to ensure that the economic benefits of environmental protection, particularly those generated by wildlife tourism, are fairly shared with rural populations who bear the greatest burden of living alongside wildlife.
A shift toward data-driven planning, protection of ecological corridors, community partnerships, and stronger institutional accountability is essential. The human–elephant conflict is not solely a wildlife issue; it is fundamentally a land-use and governance challenge. Sri Lanka would benefit from establishing a dedicated Human–Elephant Coexistence Organisation, or from strengthening an existing Wildlife Commission with the authority and capacity to implement long-term, science-based management strategies.
With informed policies and genuine support for affected communities, peaceful coexistence between humans and elephants is both achievable and sustainable. Ultimately, educating future generations and equipping them to face emerging environmental challenges with knowledge and responsibility is the most effective long-term strategy.
BY Geewananda Gunawardana and Chula Goonasekera
on behalf of LEADS forum
Email admin@srilankaleads.com
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